


The Miseducation of Philip J. Fry

by Kahvi



Category: Futurama
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Planet Express is forced to close for the holidays and their X-mas party is canceled, Fry realizes that everyone in the crew has somewhere else to go to, except him. What follows is a touching, epic journey of self-discovery. And beer. And hot hologram chicks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Miseducation of Philip J. Fry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackclaude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackclaude/gifts).



> Thanks to my wonderful betas Roadstergal and Smaych for their help and patience, and to my recipient, for making a request that inspired and challenged me!

"It's gonna be the future soon,  
I won't always be this way,  
When the things that make me weak and strange  
Get engineered away  
It's gonna be the future soon  
I can see it all so clear  
When my heart is aching I can close my eyes  
It's already here."

\- Jonathan Coulton, Future Soon

 

* * *

 

_ "Philip J. Fry!" _

The entire of Mrs. Crabhurts (Crabhurst, really, but after 40 plus years of teaching 11 year olds, the former had stuck) 6th grade class stopped what they were doing, all eyes falling to one person, face down on his desk and snoring until their giggles woke him.

"Whu?"

The teacher glared at the drooling, still half-asleep boy. "Do you have any idea what I've been talking about for the last half hour?"

The boy shrugged. "I dunno. Stuff."

The class giggled again as Mrs. Crabhurts shook her head. "Do you even know what class this is?"

The boy narrowed his eyes. "French?"

"Philip, what's going to become of you? If you never pay attention to anything, how are you ever going to improve? Young man? Are you listening to me? Young man? What do you want to be?"

But the boy was already drifting back into sleep.

* * *

 

One thousand and some years later, he woke up again.

"..."

It was the quiet, Fry realized, that had woken him up. The Planet Express offices were usually filled with yelling, swearing and loud arguments; the whirr of can openers and beer jacks, the white noise of the television everyone always forgot to turn off; the roar of starship engines. Silence… that was new. And kinda creepy.

Raising his head from the tabletop and shaking it, Fry took the situation in. Around the table, Leela and Bender exchanged confused glances, now and then casting a nervous eye at professor Farnsworth, who was standing in the doorway, completely still, looking troubled. "What's the deal?" Fry narrowed his eyes. "Are we playing that game where no one tells me the rules again?"

"He's been standing there for more than a minute," Leela whispered, conspiratorily, "according to this thing on my arm."

"I use a wristwatch," Bender supplied, waving his hand. Or _a_ hand, Fry supposed; at any rate, it was wearing an antique digital watch.

"Oh my," the professor exclaimed suddenly, "that didn't work well at all."

"What happened," Fry asked, "was it aliens? I'll bet it was aliens."

"Did you forget to take your un-stiffening pills again today?" Leela suggested.

"Hm… no… I wanted to say 'good news, everyone', but not everyone is here, it's not news, and it's not exactly good…"

Leela rolled her eye. "Oh, for crying out loud…"

"I suppose I'd better just tell you; Planet Express is closing for the holidays."

"But… don't we always close during the holidays?" Fry looked around, nervously. This could be an alternate dimension. They could take you like that, and sometimes you never found out until it was too late.

"Yes; that's why it's not really news. Now, run along," the professor made feeble shooing motions, "you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!"

"But it's only the 23rd," Leela managed to protest, before Bender clamped a metal hand over her mouth.

"Can it, one-eye; don't ruin it for those of us with a social life."

"Yes, well, I'm giving you a few days extra. For…" the professor hesitated, "the… excellent work you've done this year?"

"All right," Fry snapped, jumping up to take cover behind the relative safety of his chair, "what dimension is this?"

Wrestling Bender away, Leela crossed her arms, taking up her 'intimidation' pose. "Professor, what's going on here?"

"Yeah," Bender agreed, screwing his head back on," what gives?"

Lips twitching, hands fidgeting, the professor watched them angrily for a moment, as though beams of annoyance could potentially shoot out of his eyes and incinerate them. Perhaps, Fry thought with alarm, in this dimension, they could? "All right! It's my mother. She's coming to visit this X-mas, and she's not good with people."

Bender snorted. "Your _mother_? Come on; how could she _possibly_ still be alive?"

"She's not, technically. She was cryogenically frozen at 39, to avoid turning 40. Every twenty years she defrosts to see if they've found a cure for aging." He mumbled, "And check up on me."

"What about the office X-mas party?" Fry liked the Planet Express X-mas parties. The booze was free, and sometimes Leela got drunk enough to let him get close to kissing her. Then she'd punch him in the stomach, of course, but it was always worth it.

"You'll have to have it somewhere else. Now get out of here; I've got an army of cleaning robots to build!"

* * *

 

When the Planet Express doors hissed shut behind him, Fry sighed along with them. Two days before Christmas, and for the first time since defrosting, he had nowhere to spend it. This was not exactly how he'd pictured his future, growing up. Then again, he hadn't exactly pictured it as being quite so far _into_ the future, either.

"Hey…" Leela put a friendly hand on his shoulder, and Fry's heart picked up the beat, suddenly interested. "I hate to say this, but I think Bender has the right idea. It's a few days extra off; that's not bad, right? We'll have the party somewhere else."

"Not at my place," Bender proclaimed, crossing his arms. "I spent ages cleaning up after last time."

Fry glared back at him. "We hired a maid. _I_ hired a maid. Then she quit, so I hired another one. Then _he_ quit, and I gave up, and did it all myself."

"Exactly! I don't want to go through all that again!"

"Anyway, the party isn't important." Leela zipped up her jacket, and started rummaging in her purse. "That's not what X-mas is about."

"Yeah; X-mas is about getting trashed and spending your money on useless crap. We don't need a party to do that!"

Fry shot Bender a thankful smile. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Well, I'm going to spend X-mas improving myself." Having found what she was looking for, Leela handed Fry a purple flyer with a picture of a woman with three arms instead of legs, cheerfully giving five thumbs up. He frowned at the title.

"Mutant Power?"

"I know; it sounds a little corny, but it's actually about embracing your mutant identity."

Fry eyed the flyer suspiciously. "But I'm not a mutant."

Leela snapped the flyer back. "No, but I am, and there's nothing wrong with that!"

"I never said there was!"

"I did," Bender supplied.

"They have a meeting in the sewers this afternoon - I'm going to go there and find out what they're about. You guys have fun." She slipped the flyer back into her bag, and headed towards the nearest pothole.

Fry watched her go with that same empty-sort of feeling he'd had ever since the professor had thrown them out - about five minutes or so. "I don't know, Bender. Everyone has someone to be with and something to do. Kif and Amy are on that quasar safari, the professor has his mom, Leela's got her mutant community..."

"And you've got a super-cool robot best friend!" Throwing his arm around Fry, Bender pulled them both down a side street that was looking promisingly sleazy as it went along. Fry smiled. Now _this_ was the spirit of X-mas!

* * *

 

The clunky robot bartender, attached to the bar, raised a non-existent eyebrow at Fry. "Are you quite sure you don't want a drink, buddy? You haven't had anything since you came in."

Fry shrugged. "Why not?"

"Smart move, kid." The bartender reached inside himself, producing a bottle. "That'll be…"

"Just refuse that chrome-plated guy over there his next drink," Fry interjected, magnanimously.

The bar-bot tried to do the eyebrow thing again, exaggeratedly. Fry got the feeling it was overcompensating. "Big spender, eh?" Fry shrugged again, and the bartender slid away.

It was a typical robot dive, just sleazy enough that the drinks were still cheap, but not so sleazy that it had gone all the way over to hip. Hip was the opposite of a lot of things, including 'inexpensive'. Murky booths lined the walls, wherein various metal people tried their best to get as sober as they could, as quickly as they could. Fry liked to help them along by taking the drinks that were handed out to them for free. For robots, _not_ drinking was what cost you money. This suited Fry fine.

"You sure you wanna refuse that guy drinks?" Bender whispered, leaning over. "He's been giving you the eye all night."

Fry stared. "What; that guy? Is that even a guy?"

"Don't stare, moron!" Bender slapped his head the other way.

"But he looks like a piece of aluminum siding!"

"Yeah, don't let those dazzling looks fool ya. He'll love and leave you, sunshine."

Just as Fry was about to ask what on Earth that was supposed to mean, the piece of aluminum siding got up and started making its way across the room.

"Uh oh," Bender mumbled, "better make yourself scarce. Quickly – go hide in the bathroom before he sees you."

"Is that really the best ideaaaugh!" Propelled by a patented Bender-unit shove, Fry careened across the room, flying through the door labeled "bolts". He breathed a sigh of relief. It was one thing to be taken to be robo-curious, but gender-confused robo-curious? No thanks.

Figuring he might as well take advantage of the situation, Fry strolled over to the urinal, and unzipped his pants. He always found it hard to concentrate in men's rooms, no matter what sort of men they were for. The fact that he could hear a disturbing mix of human and robot sounding clanks and moans coming from one of the stalls didn't help matters. Concentrating not to notice, Fry very thoroughly read the various advertisements plastered on and around the mirror. There was a rather large one featuring Zapp Brannigan, with the legend "Zapp Needs Men."

"Heheh…" Fry chuckled under his breath. "Men."

"Don't make light of the Weekender Volunteers, potential private," the ad snapped back at him. "To do the boring, menial jobs the rest of us can't be bothered with, DOOP needs all the able bodied men and women we can desperately grab from lugubrious places."

"Thanks, but no thanks," Fry replied, zipping up.

As he left, the ad glared at him. "You'll be back. And wash your hands!"

 

* * *

 

Drinking with Bender always ended in a complete blackout. As he came to, Fry vaguely remembered refusing everyone in the bar a round of drinks, and consequently drinking them all himself. He had a dim recollection of sitting next to Bender, who would hand down the drinks he was handed to Fry, who would down them in sequence. They'd gone from bar to bar, drunk and sober enough to cancel each other out, and then…

Fry shuddered. His bed felt unusually cold. His hand was cramping up too, like someone had slept on it. And his mouth tasted like diesel oil. And…

"Morning, meat bag." Bender jumped out from the other side of the bed, donned an apron, and whistled as he left the bedroom for the kitchen. As Fry lay frozen in abject terror, the robot stuck his head back in. "You want eggs? Humans eat eggs, right?"

"I'm naked," was all Fry managed.

"Yep. Pretty sure that's what a naked human looks like."

Fry pulled the covers closer to. "What happened last night?"

"Happened?" Bender seemed confused. "Nothing happened."

"Oh, thank…"

"I'm pretty sure we had sex, but apart from that …"

"What do you mean 'apart from that'? That's a major, _major_ that!"

"Yeah, whatever. You want eggs or not?"

* * *

 

Dressed, showered, then undressed when he'd realized his mistake, showered again and dressed a final time, Fry sat in the newly installed breakfast nook – they had made the mistake of letting Amy house-sit during one of their longer deliveries – watching Bender carefully over the top of his coffee mug. The latter was cheerfully humming out of tune, frying whole eggs in a pan.

"Bender, listen…"

"Dah rah _dee_ dah deed _dee_ dee ah…" The eggs smashed together as they rolled around on the Teflon surface, yolk and egg white seeping sadly out of the cracks. "Whoops!"

"I kinda think… I really think we need to… y'know… talk."

Scraping the broken eggs out of the pan, Bender selected a fresh pair to replace them. "Talk? What about?"

"_You_ know…" Fry shifted uncomfortably. "Last night."

"What's there to talk about? We went out,"

Fry nodded.

"Had a few drinks."

Fry nodded again, eagerly.

"And then we had sex." Bender flipped the eggs over, promptly breaking them both. "Aw, man!"

"That's kinda what I wanted to talk about."

Whirring servos kicked into gear as Bender narrowed his eyes. "That's really gay."

"I'm not gay! I mean…" What did he mean? What did any of this mean? "I… I don't get this. What does this say about our relationship? What does it say about me? Does this mean I'm a robosexual? If I'm a robosexual, what does that make you? Am I just robot-curious? Am I _gay_ robo-curious? I really like you, and I think I must have enjoyed it, but does that mean I _like_ liked it, or that I just liked it, or that I liked that I…"

The frying pan _clanged_ heavily as Bender hit Fry over the head with it. "Eggs are done. You 'bout done yabbering?"

 

* * *

 

Fry had almost managed to find a way to eat the egg when Amy rushed in.

"Hey guys; is Leela here?"

Fry, still feeling somewhat exposed, irrationally tried to cover himself up. "Why would Leela be here?"

Amy shrugged. "I dunno; the professor wouldn't let me in at work, so I came here."

"There _are_ other places in New New York you know," Bender huffed, hanging up his apron.

"I guess; I don't really hang out here much outside of work. Earth is such a dump." She made a face.

"Aren't you supposed to be watching quasars with Kif?"

"Yeah…" Amy looked away, embarrassed, "he fell overboard. He was kinda sucked out into the vacuum; all I had left was his little finger."

"Oh my god!" Fry rushed to his feet, the egg, forgotten, rolling out of his hands. Bender glared at them both. "Is he OK?"

"Yeah, he grew himself back from it. But the cruise ship company refused to let us stay on board; they said what he'd done was technically cloning, and tickets are non-transferable to clones." She sighed, deeply. "So, here we are. Back on Earth for X-mas." She mumbled something in Cantonese as the door slid open again to reveal Leela.

"Does anyone ever knock anymore?" Bender yelled from the kitchen.

"Hey guys. I'm just here to pick up Amy."

Something about Leela struck Fry as different. Though he hated to admit it, he always saw her as kind of regal, but now she practically radiated self-confidence. He realized he was staring when she narrowed her eye at him as she passed. Fry shook himself, grasping for some relevant conversational straw. "So where are you guys going?"

"Mutant Power is holding an empowerment seminar. I asked if I could come along." Amy grinned like she was going to the circus.

"But you're not a mutant." It was almost a question. Fry had seen her naked, but these things could be sneaky.

"That's not her fault. It's important for us to allow those who are less developed to experience our culture."

"'Less developed'?" This was all starting to sound really odd to Fry; like those homeless guys who threw tin cans after him and talked about shellfish and how their hands were really, really old.

"I'm sorry." Leela smiled, in the same way girls usually at Fry when they were trying to explain that he wasn't up to their standards. "I don't mean to imply that there's anything wrong with... _mundane_ humans, but mutants are the next evolutionary step."

"Yeah," Amy chirped excitedly; "Mutants have their own unique culture, history and language.

"Language?"

"We're working on it. The point is, being a mutant isn't a handicap. It's an advantage."

Even as the words left his mouth, Fry knew they were wrong, but by then it was too late to stop them. "But you have no depth perception."

Amy and Leela turned to glare at him, as one. "At least she _is_ perceptive, which is more than I could say for _some_ people around here." Pointedly ignoring Fry, Amy pulled on Leela's arm. "Come on, I don't want to be late; the website said the first ten people would get free radiation exposure!"

"I'm not angry," Leela yelled over her shoulder as Amy pushed her through the door, "it's not your fault you're mun..."

"Dane," Fry finished for her, quietly. He spent some time looking at the door, then went to retrieve the egg. What was so wrong with Danes, anyway?

* * *

 

New New York bristled with activity as X-mas Eve approached mercilessly, second by shopping second. For lack of anything better to do, Fry was wandering the streets, trying to amuse himself by watching people running one another over in the transport tubes, and getting into fights over novelties outside the shopping malls. Somehow, it wasn't really working. He'd never really been able to figure out the climate of this city; it seemed to be fairly cold in winter and fairly warm in summer, interrupted by _freezing_ cold and _steaming_ hot at seemingly random intervals. Right now, the best way to describe it was _bland_. It was the worst kind of weather when you wanted an excuse to get a snack, but Fry went into the 7-Eleven anyway.

Apparently, this was not where most people did their X-mas shopping. A few disinterested faces browsed the aisles, and Fry joined them, wordlessly. Somehow, he drifted into the Pharmacy section, which he didn't even know they had, nursing the faint hope that there might be a cure against whatever mild existential angst he was undergoing. He read the labels under his breath as the rows of pills paraded in front of his eyes. "Aspirin, anti-inflammatory, asthma-reducing, asthma _in_ducing, vitamin A, Aspartam-flavored placebo, anthropology, antihistamines..." What?

Grabbing one of the bottles, Fry rushed up to the completely enclosed cashier, waving it frantically. "Wha!" He exclaimed, pointing excitedly at it. "Whu!"

"Sir," the disinterested twenty-something behind the bullet-proof glass told him in a learned-by-rote tone, "You are speaking a language which is not recognized by our standard-issue universal translators. Please remain calm."

"Mmmnn," Fry explained, waving the bottle. "Ttt... these are smart-pills? For making smart?"

"Those are degree-pills, yes sir."

Fry kept the bottle still long enough to look at the label. It said 'Nuclear Astrophysics, BSc' and underneath, in a chirpy script; 'Try new MSc flavor - now with 50% more science!' "How many of these you got?"

"You want me to run through them alphabetically?"

"I said _how many!_" Fry leaned against the glass menacingly.

"About twelve dozen or so," the clerk yawned.

"But…" Every teacher Fry had ever had paraded through his mind, fingers waving in caution. "…if you can get a degree just by taking one of these, why do people bother going to college?" He was pretty sure Amy had been going for five years straight now, and that was only since he'd known her.

"For the parties," the rolled his (or possibly her) eyes. "Duh."

Fry blinked. _Young man? What do you want to be?_ The teacher in his mind roared. He thumped his hand on the counter, scattering luminescent candy displays. "Gimme!"

"Which one, sir?"

"_One of each!_"

* * *

 

Fry frowned as the clerk handed him the final bottle. What a waste of space; there was only one pill in each container. Whistling, he unscrewed each bottle in turn, pouring all the pills into the largest-seeming bottle, and proceeded to shake it. They were all different colors – it looked like a cute little drug store rainbow. He slipped the bottle into his pockets, and felt the unmistakable buzz of his phone ringing.

"God dammit…"

With his pocket full of pharmaceuticals, locating the tiny silver disc was next to impossible. More than twice, Fry mistook one of his quarters for it, until the ringing got annoying and loud enough that he was able to find it by sonic vibrations alone. Stumbling out of the store, he headed for the nearest Cellphone-o-mat, and put the disc into its slot. Presently, the screen flashed on, revealing a somewhat agitated Hermes.

"Finally! I was beginning to think no one…" he began, before spotting Fry. "Oh, it's you. I guess I must have run through the entire register. Sorry to bother you." Hermes reached for the 'end call' button at the top of the screen.

"No; no," Fry yelled; "I can help! I know stuff." He unscrewed the top of one of his newly acquired bottles, and popped one of the brightly colored pills into his mouth. "And junk."

Hermes hesitated. "Well… no one else bothered to answer my call…"

Fry nodded eagerly, taking another pill. They tasted faintly sugary. He wondered what would happen if he just sucked on one?

"All right; I suppose even you might know this – why is the office closed?"

Fry lit up. "Ooh! I know! We're closed for the holidays!"

Hermes frowned. "But we always close for the holidays."

"Y'huh. That's what I told the professor." Fry selected another pill, a blue one this time, and popped it into his mouth.

"I still need to get in there – I have to prepare the end-of-year accounts!"

"Can't you like…" Fry thought hard. He knew this one too, "use electronics…. mail… or," he swallowed another pill – they were rather more-ish, "a global system of interconnected computer networks using various protocols?"

Both Fry and Hermes froze in unison. "What in the name of Marley are you taking there?"

"I dunno," Fry shrugged. "There were labels, but they were on the bottles. I just put them all in here."

"Degree pills?" Hermes spluttered. "Don't tell me you spent your X-mas bonus on that."

"Not all of it." He'd gotten some gum too. "I just wanted to improve myself and be smart." He checked the bottle. "I've taken more than half of these, I should be smart now, right?"

Hermes shook his head, chuckling. "It doesn't work like that, mon. Your brain can't deal with absorbing that much information all at once, so it just stores it. It's like trying to read an encyclopedia without a built-in electronic search field."

Fry looked at the pills, sadly. The made a pretty sound as they fell about inside the bottle. "Oh."

"Why'd'ya think people still go to college for?"

"For the parties?"

"Who told you that – some pasty androgynous college student?"

"No," Fry lied.

"I'll try to find a way to reach the professor." Hermes reached for the button. "And stop taking those pills!" Fry could just about make out the sound of Caribbean Christmas carols in the background and a young boy laughing before Hermes blinked out of existence. Sighing, Fry pried his phone back out of the slot. Then he took another pill.

* * *

X-mas Eve in New New York. Or… the day before X-mas Eve, but still the same day, only it wasn't evening yet. Did that still make it X-mas Eve? Fry's head was beginning to hurt. He shuffled down the street, munching on the odd degree pill and watching excited children tow their parents to and fro while the parents smiled nervously and looked at their watches. Santa would be here soon, and everyone would retreat into the warm, safe comfort of their reinforced homes, enjoying the holiday and the quality time spent with their families. And where would Fry be? Bender would be off somewhere partying, but Fry didn't feel like drinking himself into a stupor again. Unless something spectacular happened, he was looking at a lonely X-mas Eve spent alone in his lonely apartment. Alone. He sniffled a little, then glared as a shabby-looking robot blocked his way.

"Arms for the poor, sir?" The robot shook it's limbless torso.

"I don't have any arms," Fry grumbled, adding "that I can spare."

"Any little thing will help, sir," the robot implored; "a wrist, perhaps? Or just a digit?"

"Look," Fry started to shake his finger at the robot, reconsidering at the hungry look it gave it, "we've all got troubles. You don't have arms, I have to spend X-mas Eve by myself in my luxurious penthouse apartment. All I want is to find some happiness, and you're in my way, OK?"

"No I'm not," the robot protested, "it's right over there." It made a complicated shrugging motion.

"Where?"

"There!" The robot shook a little more.

Fry looked behind the robot, at the sidewalk, up towards the gathering clouds above. "I don't get it."

"Oh, for the love of…" the robot let itself fall diagonally, it's head pointing across the street. "_There_!"

Confused, Fry looked in the direction it was pointing… towards the festively decorated building with a huge, lit up sign proclaiming 'HAPPINESS ARCADE' in large, friendly letters. His jaw dropped.

 

* * *

There was a price of admission, but Fry was able to bribe the pale, scrawny doorman (woman?) with his remaining degree pills. The inside of the arcade was warm and inviting, with the familiar sounds of teenagers killing everything in sight with lasers. Some things never changed. Fry wiped his eyes, overcome by a feeling of nostalgia and _belonging_. "I'm home," he whispered.

For hours, he was content just wandering the halls, taking in all the lights and sounds and impressive-looking machinery. Most of the games – except X-treme Hopscotch and Throw-The-Ball, which consisted of a ball you could throw - required an extra charge, and all Fry had was a couple of quarters. He went up to a booth labeled "KiLLstrUctoRZ" with a huge holographic robot dinosaur emblazoned on the side, but a sign lit up, stating 'ARCADE TOKEN-CARDS ONLY'.

"Aw, man."

"In need of tokens, young man?" The voice sounded familiar, but hearing those words, Fry filed that away for later consideration.

"Boy, _am I!_" He turned excitedly, finding himself chest to out-thrust chest with Zapp Brannigan.

"Ever considered joining the Weekender Volunteers?"

"Not that again," Fry crossed his arms, scowling. "I already told your ad; I'm not interested."

Zapp waved a neon-colored card. "Volunteers get a token-card with unlimited..."

"Where do I sign up?"

 

* * *

Along with a group of other volunteers, most of which were about Fry's age and looking rather miserable, Fry was lead into a separate wing of the Arcade, and directed to sit down in a small lecture theater. Eventually, Zapp showed up, clearing his throat.

"Gentlemen," he said, matter-of-factly, adding "and _ladies_" in a sultry voice that made one of the female recruits run to the bathroom, "as you know, the human race has been locked in deadly combat with the dangerous Insectoid race for almost a decade now."

"We have?" Fry gaped. Another recruit rolled his eyes at him.

Ignoring him, Zapp went on. "Eventually, peace was negotiated. Then, after we destroyed their home planet due to an unfortunate misunderstanding, which I had nothing whatsoever to do with, war began to rage again. Which brings us here."

Fry raised his hand, eagerly.

"Yes, you in the middle. With the earnest, dog-like expression."

"Can't you use… I dunno… highly intelligent children to fight the battles via virtual reality? Or something?"

Zapp huffed in condescension. "Don't be ridiculous, recruit; exploiting gifted children was the very first thing we tried. Except, for some reason, there were legal repercussions." He shrugged. "At any rate, you won't be fighting any of the actual battles. What we need you fine folks for is a much more exciting – by which I mean dangerous and boring – task."

As one, the recruits held their breath, leaning forward in their seats.

"Clearing the spaceways between battles." Grinning, Zapp produced a stylized garbage-picker and garbage bag.

Fry gasped in terror.

"…in virtual reality, of course."

Fry sighed in relief.

"Though I should warn you; we will be transferring your consciousness into a robot replica, so if you die in there…" Zapp made a slicing sound and traced his finger across his throat.

Fry gasped in terror.

* * *

 

"I've changed my mind," Fry stammered as a DOOP representative strapped him into the VR-pod. "I don't wanna be a Weekender Watchamacallit."

"Too bad son," the representative handed him the pick and garbage bag, "you signed a contract."

"I don't remember that."

The representative shrugged. "Maybe you did, and maybe you didn't. Either way, it's too late now."

"But…" Someone slapped a helmet on his head, and everything went black.

 

* * *

 

Everything was white.

Fry blinked furiously, trying to focus, as suddenly, a beautiful face came into view. Thick auburn hair and clear blue eyes was suddenly his entire world, and Fry couldn't bring himself to mind much.

"Am… I in heaven?"

The blue eyes smiled. "My name is Nirvanah. You're quite safe here."

"So I _am_ in heaven!" Again, this didn't seem like much of a problem right now.

Nirvanah laughed. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. You don't still believe in religions, do you? I thought this was the 31st century!"

"OfcourseIdon'tdon'tberidiculous," Fry breathed, then tried to stand up. No problem there; he didn't feel bad at all. The softly glowing white walls of the small chamber they were in felt soothing and comforting, almost like a womb. Not that he remembered what that was like. If this wasn't heaven, or a womb, that must mean he wasn't dead, but then how come he was feeling so good? And anyway, wasn't he supposed to be cleaning some interstellar battlefield? He held his hand up in front of him. It looked just like usual.

Nirvanah smiled. "You're confused. That's to be expected. We rescued you."

"'We'?"

"Yes. The Starship Enlightenment."

Fry looked around the tiny room with suspicion. "It looks kinda small for a starship."

"Silly," Nirvanah giggled, shaking a finger at him; "this is just the elevator. Let me show you." She pressed a concealed button on the wall, and a section of it slid open to reveal a room full of naked bodies in groups of different sizes, draped across one another in a surprisingly large number of inventive positions. "Sorry," she said, hurriedly, pressing the button again, "that's the sex deck."

Fry tried to close his gaping mouth as the door slid shut. "You have a sex deck?"

Nirvanah raised an eyebrow. "Yes. Don't your ships have sex decks?"

"No."

"Then what do you do if you want to have sex?"

"We have sex. But, like, not on the ship." For a horrible moment, Fry tried to imagine a Planet Express crew orgy, and had to lean against the wall a little.

"Are you all right?"

"I guess… actually, I'm better than all right. I don't get it; I was supposed to be out collecting space garbage."

"And what a terrible waste of your mind that would have been. We've been monitoring this region of space for some time, and picked you up just as you arrived." Nirvanah reached out to lay a hand on his face. Her touch was so light that it was hardly even there. "Come," she said, cheerfully, "you must meet the Captain."

Fry winced as the button was pressed again, but this time, the wall slid back to reveal a control room with a number of very important and busy-looking people in it doing important and busy-looking things. Everyone was dressed in the same uniform Nirvanah was wearing; a sort of padded jumpsuit in red and gold. One of the busy-looking people turned around, giving Fry a curt nod.

"Mr. Fry, I presume?" He reached out his hand, and Fry shook it. He had a surprisingly limp grip. "I'm Captain Platini. Welcome to our ship of super-humans."

"Oh, stop it!" Nirvanah waved him off. "He does that to everyone. It stopped being funny three hundred years ago, Hercule."

"Wait; three hundred years? You don't look that old."

"Thank you," Nirvanah said, tactfully. "I'm glad I don't."

"Mr. Fry," the Captain interrupted, "we're effectively a race of immortals. We represent the best and brightest of humanity, searching the multi-verse for beings worthy to join our crew."

"You're immortal?"

"Technically, yes. We're dead."

It had been a long day for Fry. He stumbled backwards into a chair, trying to take it all in. Sitting in it felt weird, like it wasn't really there. A lot of things on this ship felt like that.

"We're hologrammatically projected simulations of dead people. Our ship here is a hologram too. Years ago, we were sent out on a research mission to explore and gather knowledge no ship of living humans could. We have since amassed terabytes upon terabytes of data, but see no reason to return with our results."

A rather scary looking woman at the console next to Fry's chair looked at him with predatory eyes. "Indeed. Ve are far superior to the rest of the human race. Ve see no need to interact vith them."

Turning away from her quickly, Fry looked to Nirvanah for reassurance. She was smiling, brightly and encouragingly.

"Fry, the results we found when we analyzed your brain-wave patters were astonishing. Your brain is a logical paradox."

"I get that a lot."

"It contains more knowledge that it should be possible to attain within a lifetime." The Captain leaned forward, his eyes shining. "You _must_ let us convince you to join us."

Fry looked around. It seemed like everyone in the room was watching him carefully, out of the corners of their eyes. "I… dunno. It's X-mas and all…"

Everyone laughed in surprisingly harmonious unison. "Fry," Nirvanah said eventually, "we have evolved beyond the need for X-mas. Here, we enjoy ourselves in every way we wish, all the time."

Fry considered this. "So… it's like every day is X-mas?"

The Captain and Nirvanah exchanged glances. "Yes," she said, finally, "just like that. Will you consider it? I'm sure the bed in my quarters will have room enough for two."

_Well_, Fry thought, _So what if it _is_ X-mas? It's not like you have anywhere to go to, or anyone that cares one way or another._ "Fine," he said, getting up, "where do I sign?"

With lightning speed, the Captain whipped out a contract. "Just here," he indicated a space on the shining plastic document. "Your fingerprint will do."

Concentrating, Fry pressed his thumb to the document. "There. Now what? Do I get a uniform and stuff?" He wasn't entirely sure he'd be comfortable wearing that thing, but at least he'd be wearing it around people like Nirvanah.

"Certainly," the Captain grinned, "right after well kill you."

Fry stumbled back towards the elevator, or at least where thought it should be. There was just a blank wall there, now. "Whu… wha whu what now?!"

Nirvanah came towards him, smiling gently. "We have to, I'm afraid. This is a hologram ship; we're all holograms. Your mind was sent out here to control a garbage robot, so we picked the signal up and projected it as a hologram. You're a hologram too, now."

"I am?" Fry looked at his hands again. They were glowing, he realized. Not enough that you'd notice right away, but it was there. Pulsing, like the walls. "So, everything's OK then, right?"

Nirvanah shook her head. "No. Your body is still alive, back on Earth. In order to free you, we have to kill you here, so you'll die back there. Your body will die forever, but we can bring your hologram back."

"That sounds horribly confusing and dangerous," Fry cried, backing up against the wall.

"Nonsense. You won't feel a thing. Now, just let me take out this syringe…"

Fry screamed, and the world went black.

* * *

 

The world was… purple?

"Come on," the purple vision yelled at Fry, yanking at his arm painfully. "We have to get out of here."

The purple was brushed aside to reveal a worried eye, and suddenly, a piece of the world fell sanely into place. "Leela?"

"No talking. I think the DOOP-guys are onto me. Come on; disconnect yourself and let's get out of here!"

_Leela_. Just the sight of her was infinitely more comforting than the Enlightenment's pulsing walls. "Thank God you came for me."

"I said no talking!"

Slipping out of the restraints, Fry took her hand and let her pull him onwards. They ran through the VR-lounge and into the theater, where Zapp was lecturing a new set of recruits.

"Of course, there are some that say Insectoid genocide is not a noble cause, but to them I say…" he noticed Fry and Leela rushing past. "Come back, recruit! That VR-time isn't free, you know!"

Leela maneuvered expertly through the arcade's crowds, dodging sugar-rushed kids and hormone-driven teens with expert ease. Within minutes they were out the door. Fry looked down, and realized they were still holding hands. Leela noticed too, and let go, abruptly.

"I thought you were hanging out with those Mutant Power guys?"

Leela shifted uncomfortably. "I was, but…" She narrowed her eye, looking into the distance. "Fry," she said slowly, "how far away are those people?"

Fry gave it his best shot. "I'd say about 211,4 meters, assuming an average height of 180 centimeters for men and 166 centimeters for women; that's in metric, of course; if you'd…"

"That's good enough for me," Leela grabbed Fry's hand again. "We need to get through that crowd."

Fry felt the familiar, icy claw of panic grab his spine. "Is it Santa? Is Santa Claus coming to town?"

"No, not yet. This is the X-mas Eve rush hour. We'll never make it through in time!"

Fry squeezed Leela's hand. Even when she was terrified, she still looked kinda regal. "Sure we can. I know _you_ can.

Leela turned her head sharply, and for a moment, their eyes met. Then, she nodded, and without another word, swept him up in her arms. The stampeding crowd was advancing at a rate of about 4 meters per second, but all Fry could hear was the triumphant beating of his heart.

"This is the most romantic thing I've eveeeeeeeeeehhhh!!"

The crowd was upon them, surrounding them like a wave, and Leela swiftly threw Fry over her shoulder. Moving like dancer – a deadly, screaming, kicking dancer – she scissored her way through the teeming mass of bodies, jumping over hover-prams and wrestling grannies out of the way. It was hard to tell upside down and back to front, but after a few minutes, Fry was sure he recognized the exit to the street Planet Express was on.

"Turn left," he prodded Leela's left buttock, "left!"

"There is no left; that intersection is complete blocked. And stop poking my butt!"

"There's nowhere else to go – we have to try!"

Fry sensed Leela tensing – then, running quickly to the right.

"No – I said _left_ \- _left!!_" There was a metallic 'clank', and that distinctive combined smell of human waste products, dead fish and slime. "The sewers! You're a genius!"

"No," Leela snorted as she slid down the ladder and started running down the narrow ledge beside the foul-smelling river of effluence, "from what I hear, that's you."

"Hey guys," came a terrified yet somehow also chirpy voice from behind. "wait for me!"

"Amy?" From his vantage point, Fry could just about make out the bottom of a pair of pale pink tracksuit pants.

"Come on," Leela yelled, "move it!"

The pair of them ran – Fry humping along for the ride – down the tunnel, until Leela unceremoniously dumped him onto what thankfully turned out of be relatively dry ground.

"This pipe leads to the Planet Express offices," Leela pointed, startling as the screen on the thing on her arm lit up.

"Good news, everyone," the Professor exclaimed cheerfully. "My mother realized that by defrosting so often over the years, she's now well on her way to 42. She went straight back to her icy tomb." He laughed, happily. "The X-mas party is on!"

"That's great, professor," Leela replied, "but would you mind unlocking the door to the disused toilet on the second floor?"

"Certainly," the professor frowned, "but why would you possibly need…"

"I'd rather not get into it," Leela interrupted, turning the conversation off. "OK gang; let's get going!"

"Wait," Amy said, two hands on her hips and another waving its finger at Leela, "did you say 'toilet?'

 

* * *

 

"Thank Space this place still has a shower room."

"Not so sorry we didn't close it down after that incident now, aren't you, Leela?"

Cleaner, safer, and infinitely more at ease, Fry, Leela and Amy were relaxing in the festively decorated Planet Express lounge.

"I _still_ say it shouldn't be unisex, but point taken."

The metal shields were descending down over the windows; festive music was playing, and by the fireplace, Scruffy was roasting chestnuts on a spit. A table had been set up for Hermes to go over the accounts and eat at the same time, LaBarara seated next to him and chatting amicably. Cubert and Dwight argued animatedly by the X-mas tree, each holding up a present and making grand gestures as if to imply what was inside of it. Fry let himself sink into the couch as a soft, lazy smile drifted across his face.

Next to him, Leela suddenly put a hand on his thigh. Fry looked down, perplexed, then up into her apologetic eye.

"Fry… I want to apologize for the things I said to you this morning. Those Mutant Power people weren't what I thought they were."

"You mean they weren't a crazy cult?"

"I didn't think they were a crazy cult," she spluttered, the deflated, "but yeah, I suppose they were."

"They did give me this third arm, free of charge," Amy supplied, cheerfully.

"You do realize you'll have to live with social stigma and disfigurement for the rest of your life?" Leela asked, sharply.

Amy shrugged. "Nah, if I get bored with it, I'll just have it taken off. I totally don't get what those mutants were whining about." Grinning, she got up to greet Kif, who was just arriving, looking fresh-faced. (Which, all things considered, he really was.)

"Anyway…" Leela shifted a little closer, and Fry swallowed, hard. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, Leela. But you shouldn't need cults to tell you how perfect you are."

Time seemed to grow sluggish as Leela blinked – an impressive sight with an eyelid that size – then slowly closed her eye. Fry closed his own, leaning forward, and was knocked out of the couch by a rust-stinking Bender.

"_Fry!!_ Oh, Fry; I'm so sorry I ever left you. I can't drink when you're not around!"

"That's because we don't have any alcohol at home; I'm always the one who buys the beer – now get off me!" Fry yelled, trying to push the metal hulk off his body. It was no use.

"But _Fry_," Bender pleaded, rolling back and forth, "I _love_ you!"

"Look; you said it yourself; just because we had sex…"

"You two had _sex?_" Leela gasped.

The doors slid open to reveal Professor Farnsworth. "Good, good!" He exclaimed. "Now that everyone is here…"

"Wait a minute," Amy interrupted, "this isn't everyone…"

"Yeah," said Hermes, "isn't there this other guy?"

"Orange, kinda scaly, pretends to be a doctor?"

"_Now that everyone is here_," the professor repeated, pointedly, "let the celebrations begin!" In one move, he tore his clothes off, to expressions of disgust and indifference. "I'm fairly sure," he mumbled, "that I remembered to shut off all those cleaning robots. Oh well," he added, as various beeps and warning sirens began to sound, "I'm sure it'll sort itself out. Happy X-mas, everybody!"

* * *

 

Far above the Human/Insectoid battlefield – in as much as such a term made any sense in space, and Nirvanah Crane knew it didn't – the starship Enlightenment made its way towards a new and undoubtedly scientifically interesting destination. Nirvanah sat on the satin-sheeted bed in her quarters, quietly putting on her exciting night gown for an evening at the sex deck. As she got up to leave, her eyes fell to the unused syringe on her dressing table, and she sighed. "Why do the nice ones always leave?"

Slipping into her velvet slippers, she slipped out. Into something undoubtedly slippery.

* * *

 

"_Young man?" Ms. Crabhurts closed in on him, her eyes narrowing like a predator. "Well? Haven't you got anything to say for yourself?" _

Glaring back, Fry jumped out of his seat. "You don't know anything! I may be stupid now, but in the future, I'm gonna be the smartest man alive! And I'll have a robot best friend, and robots will clean up after me, and like me, and want to hang out with me, 'cause I'm so cool. And I'll fight space battles, and play games all the time, and girls will like me!"

The class laughed again, harder than ever. Fry didn't mind. It wasn't always going to be this way. It was going to be the future, soon.


End file.
